Jack and I were in trouble. We knew it. The paroling Thugs were slowly moving toward our position. I don't think they know we're in here, but they suspect something. Jack was very calm and cool under pressure. He's a former cop for fuck's sake! Of course he's calm! I was shitting bricks though! Jack kept himself pressed against the wall, trying not to be seen. The lights in the crappy little office were turned on, so hiding in the shadows was no option.
I wondered if we could fight our way out. Two against two? Those odds didn't seem too bad. I quietly tried to look around. I found an old tire iron in a drawer along with some oil stained leather gloves and other car parts.
“Ugh!” I said, forgetting that we were hiding.
The Thugs must have heard something, because their attention was then on the fucking office. Great.
“Did you hear something?” One thug said.
“Not sure. Let's check it out.”
It was time to find out how well Jack could fight. He had boasted on the train that he was a good brawler. Let him brawl. I felt much safer with a tire iron.
One of the thugs made his way into the door frame and we stuck out like sore thumbs. Jack is just standing against a wall, but we attempt to get the upper hand. Jack tried his best to reason with the thug. Maybe the thug though he was a little too threatening as almost instantaneously he was down! They had baseball bats! Jack was hit pretty good too.
I realized it was up to me and I jumped in and whacked the guy with the tire iron just as his buddy came walking in. It was a moment of white hot fury, because I barely remembered what happened. I was told by Jack later on that I hit him in the side pretty hard and it spooked him. This thug must have been new because somehow a beaten down Jack was able to convince the twerp to walk away! However, it didn't work as well with his buddy who kept approaching. At this point I was feeling lucky and grabbed the baseball bat lying on the ground and gave Jack my tire iron. He was a little beat up, but we were ready to fight.
We went in for the charge and Jack came out swinging. He didn't do as well as he had hoped as he hit the thug once, but was met by fierce and ruthless retaliation! Jack was in even worse shape now and was practically down for the sound. His bruised face shown through all the blood.
Once again, it came down to me. The least likely guy had to fight for the survival of the group. I took him out by the knees. He fell with a loud thud and lost his bat. Jack, still somehow ticking, kicked it away from arm's reach. I was standing tall; I was the victor.
Jack used his great ability to talk out his ass to get this lowly thug to leave us to our own devices. He threatened that if he didn't I'd bash his brains in. I can't express how relieved I was to see him stagger off. I don't know if I could have realistically beat his brains in.
We were safe. Jack was pretty well beaten down and to make matters worse, this warehouse had nothing but a tire iron in it. If that event was any indication of what was to follow, we knew it would be a long night. So, I helped Jack to his feet and we slowly made our way out of the warehouse.
I wondered if we could fight our way out. Two against two? Those odds didn't seem too bad. I quietly tried to look around. I found an old tire iron in a drawer along with some oil stained leather gloves and other car parts.
“Ugh!” I said, forgetting that we were hiding.
The Thugs must have heard something, because their attention was then on the fucking office. Great.
“Did you hear something?” One thug said.
“Not sure. Let's check it out.”
It was time to find out how well Jack could fight. He had boasted on the train that he was a good brawler. Let him brawl. I felt much safer with a tire iron.
One of the thugs made his way into the door frame and we stuck out like sore thumbs. Jack is just standing against a wall, but we attempt to get the upper hand. Jack tried his best to reason with the thug. Maybe the thug though he was a little too threatening as almost instantaneously he was down! They had baseball bats! Jack was hit pretty good too.
I realized it was up to me and I jumped in and whacked the guy with the tire iron just as his buddy came walking in. It was a moment of white hot fury, because I barely remembered what happened. I was told by Jack later on that I hit him in the side pretty hard and it spooked him. This thug must have been new because somehow a beaten down Jack was able to convince the twerp to walk away!
However, it didn't work as well with his buddy who kept approaching. At this point I was feeling lucky and grabbed the baseball bat lying on the ground and gave Jack my tire iron. He was a little beat up, but we were ready to fight.
We went in for the charge and Jack came out swinging. He didn't do as well as he had hoped as he hit the thug once, but was met by fierce and ruthless retaliation! Jack was in even worse shape now and was practically down for the sound. His bruised face shown through all the blood.
Once again, it came down to me. The least likely guy had to fight for the survival of the group. I took him out by the knees. He fell with a loud thud and lost his bat. Jack, still somehow ticking, kicked it away from arm's reach. I was standing tall; I was the victor.
Jack used his great ability to talk out his ass to get this lowly thug to leave us to our own devices. He threatened that if he didn't I'd bash his brains in. I can't express how relieved I was to see him stagger off. I don't know if I could have realistically beat his brains in.
We were safe. Jack was pretty well beaten down and to make matters worse, this warehouse had nothing but a tire iron in it. If that event was any indication of what was to follow, we knew it would be a long night. So, I helped Jack to his feet and we slowly made our way out of the warehouse.